


yet all i see is the sea

by farce



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: After Yancy's death Raleigh turns to vices, Gen, and goes to bars, and tries to stop seeing his brother's face in everyone he meets, kind of AU but mostly canon compliant, this isn't a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farce/pseuds/farce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world has chewed up Raleigh Becket, spit him out, and left him for dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	yet all i see is the sea

It's been five years since Yancy's death and Raleigh Becket (or what's left of him) is perched on a barstool in the corner of the dingiest place he's ever seen. _“The last standing bar in Sitka!”_ the neon sign proudly reads, though by the looks of it the roof was liable to collapse in on itself at any moment. It was a dive, but it did the job. The bartender brings him his drink—Dewar’s on the rocks—even though he hates scotch. The burn at the back of his throat is a welcome friend, a reminder that he is still here. Alive. Not dead yet. _Not dead like Yancy_ , a voice in the back of his mind nags. He bites down on his lip hard and winces, lifting the glass to his lips again, already.

Yancy would kill him for this, he knows. It’d be hypocritical, but that was the protective older brother in him. _God damn it, Yancy_. How many nights had Raleigh come home to find his brother collapsed on the couch next to a table littered with needles and syringes? _We’ve all got our vices_. It was always a lousy excuse. Their mother always used to say that the war you fight against yourself is almost always a losing battle. _Almost always_.

Raleigh thinks about how joining the Pan Pacific Defense Corps seemed so great in the beginning. He had a purpose. Yancy was finally clean. Sure it was dangerous work, but they were born to do this, or at least that's what everyone told them. _You two are drift compatible_. He remembers being bombarded with too much information much too quickly. _Drift compatible... there's that phrase again. Something about a neural handshake? And memories._ Those were the worst. 

Maybe perfect endings weren't meant for someone like Raleigh. Maybe the closest he'd get was reality, the harsh here and now of it, clinging to life in a dive bar in Alaska. _This isn't how you go._ That voice again. The same one he'd been hearing for five goddamn years. Some people say that with time you begin to lose bits and pieces of people. Their smile, their voice, how they looked when they rolled out of bed in the morning. Raleigh jolted out of his reverie at the thought. _The way he looked when he woke up_. Tired and grumpy. Reluctant to leave, like he knew he was walking to his death. Maybe he did.

_“Ready to step inside my head, kid?”_

There would be two vacant beds in the Shatterdome that night.

 

* * *

 

Every morning he’d wake up and put on a pot of coffee like clockwork. Enough for two people, even though it was just him, even though he ended up pouring most of it down the drain. He wouldn’t drink the coffee, but he’d pour himself a bowl of cereal every morning. Fruity Pebbles, because they were Yancy’s favorite, and even though he knew he was digging an early grave for his teeth he never stopped buying them. _At the rate you’re going, you’re gonna have dentures by the time you’re thirty, kid._

Raleigh never did know what to do with all of Yancy’s things after he died. They boxed up all of his things at the Shatterdome and sent them back to the house they grew up in, but Raleigh didn’t stay there long. One person in a house that used to hold four felt too empty, and anyhow, Raleigh had more than enough ghosts around.

Yancy’s boots still sat by the door, scuffed up and covered in dirt. They were too big on Raleigh, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away. Some part of him hoped that maybe someday they’d fit. _Don’t be foolish, kid_.

He heard Yancy’s voice all the time. How unfair it was, not only to watch your brother die in combat, but to have the last remnants of his memories rattling around your skull. No matter how much Raleigh tried to cut himself off from the world, Yancy was always there.

_“You ready, kid?”_

He flagged down the bartender for another drink, more of the same, and as he stared down into his empty glass and watched the ice melt he wondered when everything would start making sense again.

Raleigh’s fingertips brushed over his left arm now, but all he felt was the ghost of his brother. All he could hear was the beating of his own heart, and all he could see was the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to Brittany, who not only put up with me sending bits and pieces of this to her until it was finished, but also more or less facilitated my obsession with Pacific Rim.
> 
> The title comes from the song Swans (Life After Death) by Islands.


End file.
